To The Villa
by avalondaughter
Summary: In a moment of weakness Jane gives in to Mr. Rochester's pleas and follows him to France instead of leaving him.  Can she find happiness there, or only ruin?
1. Chapter 1

_AN: The hardest challenge of writing an AU story is that the farther you slip away from the story, the more you risk altering the characters too much. After all if the characters have the same motivations, beliefs, and sensibilities the author intended, then the alternate universe might not exist! Although I often dream up ideas for AU stories, I don't often write them down and complete them for this very reason. The events of Jane Eyre happen the way they happen because Jane is who she is._

_Despite all of that, some AU ideas are just too irresistible not to follow through to the end. I hope this story stays true enough for any of my fellow Eyre-heads._

_I also want to apologize in advance for any other types of offense this story might cause. I always do my best to work as clean as I can in the context of the story I am trying to create. Still, there are times when I find a little sex can flesh out (no pun intended) a story as it conveys deep emotions and difficult situations. I wrote this story as cleanly as I could, and it is far from raunchy or explicit, but still, there is sex there, and I want to warn anyone who would take offense before they started reading. I wanted to capture Jane's emotions "in the moment" and not as an afterthought. Please note that the first chapter is as explicit as it gets and the story contains no more scenes like it._

_**Chapter 1**_

"_For you have neither relatives nor acquaintances whom you need fear to offend by living with me_."

Those words rang in my ears. How easy it would be to comply. How miserable he would be should I leave him. No one in the world cared for me. I still had a chance to be happy with the one person who loved me completely.

Before my conscience had a chance to protest, it seemed that Mr. Rochester had read my thoughts. He knew me too well not to recognize the look of compliance in my eyes. He approached me and gently folded me in his arms. I knew I should resist, but it seemed that I was losing my resolve in the pleasure of being held by him again. I had resisted him enough that evening and it seemed my strength to continue to do so had left me.

"Jane," he said as he lifted my face to look into my eyes, "You are the wife of my heart. You are the only person I want to spend my days with. There is no human convention that should ever keep us apart. You know it to be true Jane. Why should we care about the laws of man when you know that God must sanction our love? Stay with me Jane. We shall make a life together as we were meant to."

His words, which should have seemed nonsensical to me, felt so true. I knew I wanted nothing more than to be with him for the rest of my life. He bent to kiss me and I did not resist. Conscience had overcome passion once, but now passion was demanding her due. I let his kiss overwhelm me. All resolve to leave him was gone. This was what I wanted. This was what I craved. I would stay with Mr. Rochester. I would stay with him from life till death.

His caresses became more urgent. Soon I felt him take me up in his arms once more, and carry me back up the stairs. I felt delirious, as if my body did not belong to me. I was barely aware of where he was taking me. I made no protest as he carried me to his chamber, shut the door behind him, and laid me on his bed.

Engulfed by passion I felt nothing but the pleasure of Edward's touch (he could be nothing but Edward to me now). Everything he did was a new and thrilling experience for me. I would know passion. I would know love.

It was only when he began to perform the most intimate of acts that the spell was broken. A pain shot through my body. I cried out instinctively. I looked at Mr. Rochester's face. He was looking in my direction, but seemed to be looking through me, as if I were not there. He was whispering my name and gentle words of love, but seemed not to notice my cries, or the pained look on my face. For a moment his face contorted and his body shuddered. I feared for him not knowing what had happened, but he then rolled off of me and attempted to pull me close.

"Jane, my darling. How I have dreamed so long for this day. I love you."

His words brought me little comfort. I began to sob uncontrollably. "What have I done?" I cried.

He tried to embrace and soothe me. "Did I hurt you Jane? I'm so sorry. I tried to be gentle. I promise after tonight it won't hurt anymore."

I could not - would not- return his embrace. I lay stiffly against him, continuing to feel the shame. "What have I done?" I asked again and again.

"Shh...Jane. You are my wife now - truly my wife. You have done nothing wrong. Don't cry, my love."

I continued to sob and keep my back turned to him. I reached for a coverlet to cover the shame of my nakedness. Seeing as I could not be consoled, Mr. Rochester left the bed and dressed himself. I would not look at him. He seemed to sense I needed to be left alone and left the room.

As soon as he was gone I dressed myself quickly. I felt almost sickened by the site of my clothes lying untidily on the floor. I put them on and ran to my own chamber. I lay on my bed and cried until I fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

I must have been truly exhausted for I slept soundly for what remained of the night even though I did not expect to. Sunlight was coming strongly through my window when I woke. There was no chance of leaving Thornfield now. All who dwelt within were awake. Everyone knew what had transpired the day before. I could only hope that no one knew of the shame of the previous night. I did not know what I should do next. I still felt overpowered by my own shame, but I was paralyzed at the idea that I should leave.

I arranged my disheveled hair and bathed my face and left my chamber to face my life ahead of me as bravely as possible. I was not surprised to find Mr. Rochester standing outside my door.

"Good morning my darling. Are you well?" He asked.

"Quite well," I responded coolly. I did not know where to go. I could not just go downstairs and eat breakfast with Mrs. Fairfax. I could not go find Adele for lessons. My whole world was different now.

It was Mr. Rochester himself who told me what was to come. "Jane, we will be taking a coach to London today. We will stop there for a few days and then we will go on to my villa near Marseilles as we had planned."

"To France?" I asked. I had not imagined leaving England, although I suppose it was the only thing we could do. How could I be with Mr. Rochester now when everyone knew what I was to him?

"Yes," he replied. "We shall take the honeymoon we had planned and go where we can truly be husband and wife to each other."

He beckoned for me to follow him as he walked down the hallway to the stairs.

"I have told Mrs. Fairfax and the servants that you will be leaving to stay with friends elsewhere. I will have John take your trunk from your room and take it to meet the coach to London. We can let everyone know what we have done after we are settled."

He led me to the library where breakfast was waiting. I had eaten little the day before and was grateful for the sustenance. While we ate Mr. Rochester spoke of his plan to leave Thornfield separately and meet me on Millcote Road where we would meet the coach to London together. No one would question him leaving England after the news of his secret wife and attempt at bigamy was known in the neighborhood.

Reader, I did not like living this lie at all . Mr. Rochester had planned this deception all too well. I thought bitterly that he had clearly mastered deception over the last fifteen years.

I knew I should stand up, try to run, leave Mr. Rochester and never return, but I felt rooted to this spot. Part of it felt like punishment for the sins I had committed the night before. Part of it was the way he took my hand and said, to me, "I know we will be happy Jane. This is the life we were meant to have." I could not leave him.

We departed for London shortly after breakfast. I did not say goodbye to Mrs. Fairfax personally for I felt that I could not bring myself to perpetuate the lies Mr. Rochester had told her. I left Thornfield and met Mr. Rochester at the road. We boarded a coach for London and soon our new life would begin whether God condoned it or not.

We arrived in London and Mr. Rochester presented us to all whom we met as Mr. and Mrs. Rochester. The news of his previous marriage had yet to reach London society. He did his best to make me happy. In the evenings he took me to concerts and plays. During the day we walked through museums where the painter in me could marvel at the works of great artists. My heart was in little of it. It was a mere distraction from my fear and discomfort.

Our hotel suite was large and never once did Mr. Rochester ever require, or even request that I share his bed. I remained cold and distant from him, barely allowing myself the pleasure of our outings and never giving him a single touch or loving word. I still felt a sense of shame, anger and fear. He seemed to understand at first, but soon grew impatient.

"Why can't you be happy Jane?" he asked one night as we sat down to a nearly silent supper.

"I do not know how to feel about this," I said. "I feel such shame. We have done a grievous sin. I don't feel I can forgive myself."

"Jane, do not think of it as sin. We are husband and wife. You have only allowed yourself the privilege of our marriage.

"Sir," I protested, "We are not married. No law would ever recognize me as your wife. I am your mistress and nothing more. It is not a title I relish."

He took my hand and leaned toward me. "Jane, you are so much more than that. You are the dearest person in the world to me. You are like my own flesh. You must allow yourself the happiness we could have together. I know you love me Jane. You would not be here if you did not. Remember that and try to be happy with me."

His eyes were pleading. How I hated disappointing him and saddening him still. "I do love you, and I will try, Sir, but I don't know if I can forgive myself."

He took me in his arms. I did not return the embrace, but I did not resist. "Thank you for trying, my love. I know that you will love Marseilles. Nothing can make me happier than knowing you are coming away with me."

The next day we were headed for France and our new honeymoon home. I did not know what the future held for there was nothing I could control.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Our journey to France was an easy one. No storms troubled the seas nor were the roads to rutted or stony to cross. We arrived at our honeymoon house in good time.

The south of France was like nothing I had ever seen. The villa, Falaisesmer, was not in Marseilles proper, but outside of the city to the east, where imposing cliffs gave way to vistas of a preternatural blue sea. The dazzlingly azure sky was untainted by English clouds. Falaisesmer sat on a bluff overlooking the shore, where the blue sea met the white sand. It was not the stately battlemented structure looking as if it were meant to defend against enemies as Thornfield was. It looked like a place that existed only for the pleasure of those who dwelt within it.

Mr. Rochester had written to the overseer of our impending arrival and they were were ready to greet us at the door when we alighted our coach. I was introduced to the overseer, Baptiste, as well as Amalie, the cook, and Henriette, the housemaid. They greeted us as Mr. and Mrs. Rochester.

Baptiste suggested that we relax on the veranda and have a cool drink. We were led through a large open sitting area to a veranda overlooking the sea. It was a breathtaking view to be sure. Baptiste insisted I sit and relax while he brought our luggage to our chambers. I saw Mr. Rochester take him aside and heard him whisper that Mrs. Rochester has been unwell and had had a difficult journey. I would need much rest and complete peace and privacy. He directed my trunk be brought to a certain room which was not the master's chamber, nor did it even adjoin it.

Before supper that night I was given a tour of the house. The chambers were not so grand as the manor house, but were spacious and airy and filled with the strong light of the sun and sea. One could view the water from nearly every room. Mr. Rochester not only directed me to my own bedroom, but my own small parlour as well. If privacy and rest were required, he would provide this for me. Tired from our long journey we went to bed early that night. Despite my weariness, I found myself awake much of the night wondering what my life ahead of me here would be like.

For our first weeks Mr. Rochester kept himself quite busy and did not bother me. He had much correspondence to deal with as he needed to let his associates know where he was and how he could be contacted should any of his properties need attention. He also needed to connect with his acquaintances in the neighborhood. Soon friends of Mr. Rochester began showing up at our door and staying for supper. I enjoyed having some company and society, but they all believed that I was Mrs. Rochester and it never felt right that I was living that lie.

I often spent my time in solitary pursuits. I was occasionally invited to tea by the wives of Mr. Rochester's friends, but otherwise I found myself wandering alone. I would walk along the bluffs and through the fields. I would wander along the shore. I would sometimes venture into the village. I suppose it was not healthy for me to be alone with my thoughts so much. I would find myself dwelling on the shame of the act I had committed or the deceptions I was presenting. As a child I had said to Mrs. Reed that deceit was not my fault. Perhaps she was right.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

One sunny afternoon I found myself wandering through the countryside and coast as I often did and came upon a small secluded cove flanked by rocky promontories. The water was calm and the tide was low. Several rocks jutted out from the shallow water, including one large flat rock that rose above the water several feet.

A childish urge came over me. The rock looked like a perfect place to rest and sit and dream for a while. At the edge of the wet sand I removed my shoes and waded out to the rock. I scrambled to the top of it in the most unladylike fashion and seated myself comfortably.

I was reminded of my Lowood days where on spring and summer holiday afternoons I would wade to the rock in the middle in the beck and sit for hours with my friend Maryann Wilson. Maryann had been a few years older than I, and told me so many tales of the world that were both frightening and fascinating to my child's ears. She knew much about the ways of men and women - certainly more than the one would think the morality lectures the Lowood teachers could tell her. She and the other older girls often would have clandestine talks with the young kitchen maid, who told tales of her trysts with the one of the delivery boys who frequented Lowood. Remembering those conversations with Maryann brought my memories of Mr. Rochester to the surface.

Memories of our illicit night often came to me unbidden. I tried to suppress them for they brought such a sense of shame upon me. However, there were times when they would elicit a different feeling altogether. I would look back on that night with a feeling of pleasure and the arousing memory of Edward's touch. To enjoy these memories was shameful to me and I tried to ignore the feelings as they came, but this day I could not. I was alone and somewhat bored and for once I wanted to indulge. I sat and dreamed of Edward until I could feel a hot flush on my face.

The hot flush suddenly was quenched by a spray of cool water. The sound of the approaching waves had become louder as well. I looked down. The tide had come in rapidly. My rock, once standing close to the edge of the water, was now a certifiable island. Although it did not appear that the rock would be covered by water and risk drowning, I knew it would be much more difficult to leave my rock as it had been to approach it.

I lifted my skirts as high as I dared and attempted to climb down. This wasn't easy as I needed my hands to slow my descent and steady myself. I landed in the water with hard crash, but I landed on my feet. Still trying to hold my skirts aloft, I began to walk toward the shore. The water while still quite shallow, rushed around me and kept me from getting a good footing. I found myself tripping on some boulders hidden beneath the surface. I dropped my skirts to balance myself with my arms. The water's edge looked incredibly distant. Gathering up my skirts once more, I went back to the rock.

I was terrified of what would happen next. How long would I have to wait until the tide went out again? Would Mr. Rochester worry? Would anyone find me here and take advantage of a lone woman in a secluded cove stranded on a rock? I tried to stay calm and not cry. I occupied myself with wringing the water out of my dress, now sodden to the knees. I told myself that if I had to make the walk back to the water's edge I could.

Soon I saw someone approach the cove. It was a man dressed in the peasant garb of linen shirtsleeves and a broad brimmed hat. Should I ask him for help? Would he help me? Would he harm me? Would he simply laugh at me? As he began to approach I noticed that his height and build were quite familiar to me. I could not believe the coincidence.

"Mr. Rochester," I called out to him.

He looked around for a moment, trying to see where the summons had come from.

"Mr. Rochester," I called again.

He turned and saw me. He began to laugh and called out,"Jane, what are you doing out there? Were you hoping to play the Siren and lure sailors from the sea on that rock?"

"Please do no laugh, sir. I merely wanted to sit out here when the tide came in quickly. I'm having some trouble walking back."

"I am sorry Jane. I suppose someone should have warned you about how quickly the tide can come in here, but I forget that you are the kind of woman who would require such a warning. Most ladies would not be prowling barefoot on rocks in the sea." He looked down at my shoes and stockings that were lying nearby and had managed to avoid being covered by the approaching waves.

"Will you help me, sir, or shall I just stay here till the tide goes out again? Or perhaps I shall just walk out there on my own. I don't believe I would drown and getting a bit wet should do little harm.

"Jane, I would be quite the rogue if I were to leave you out there to return by your own devices." With that he removed his own shoes and stockings, rolled his trousers to the knee and confidently waded out to me. He was calm and steady in the moving water, which seemed to be moving much less swiftly than when I was trying to navigate it.

"Come here Jane," he said. I tried to gently slide down the side of the rock while he took me his arms. With the same confidence of his approach, he carried me to the water's edge. He landed me gently on the dry sand.

"Thank you sir," I said. "I'm very happy you happened by."

A gleam came into his eyes. "Would you be willing to thank your rescuer with a kiss?"

Perhaps it was gratitude. Perhaps it was the memories of our previous times stealing into my head. Perhaps it was just a lack of willingness to argue with Mr. Rochester. Whatever the reason, I answered him quickly, "Very well, sir." I reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

As I did so, he turned his head so that my lips were on his. He grabbed my arms and held them in place making it hard for me to struggle. I did not struggle. For a moment I gave in.

Mr. Rochester did not push the embrace any further. He released me and asked "Shall we return to the Villa my dear?"

"Yes, sir. I believe that would be a good idea." I picked up my shoes and stockings, but I felt strange putting them on in front of them. I carried them in one hand while Mr. Rochester offered me his arm to walk me back.

I was amused by how he was dressed. Mr. Rochester was a fastidious English gentleman and always dressed the part. Now that we were immersed in a Mediterranean climate with warm sun and were living in such isolation, it made sense to start dressing for comfort when not mingling with society. I began to consider that I should add some more appropriate clothing to my wardrobe, but how would I go about this? My heavy black dresses were suitable for the rainy English countryside, but they were all I had. Buying new dresses meant having to ask Mr. Rochester for money. I could not bring myself to do that. I had brought some pocket money with me from my governess days, but I doubted it could buy me a new dress.

We came back home in time for tea and spoke little to each other of what had just happened. I still found myself smiling for no reason for the rest of the day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The next day we saw little of each other. I continued my solitary haunts among the rocky cliffs while Mr. Rochester seemed to be doing some mysterious errands in the village. He had left right after breakfast and said little about where he was going.

He returned at teatime to find me sitting on the veranda with a book. I had been growing bored with my walks and had gone to the library in search of other stimulation. Mr. Rochester had a few titles that absorbed my interest. He rang the bell for the tea to be served and sat down next to me. He wore a mischievous grin on his face.

"How was your day, Jane?" he asked.

"Just fine, sir," I replied.

"I worry that you are growing bored. You seem to have want of an occupation."

I replied, "It is true that I am not used to idleness and leisure, sir. I do sometimes find I have too much time on my hands."

"So I see," he said. "I am going to help you with that Jane. He then called to Baptiste, who was standing outside the door. "I have a gift for you."

"Sir, I hope you are joking. I am not inclined to accept presents, however well intended."

"Ah, but Jane, this is one I think you will like. Baptiste, bring the parcels in."

Baptiste came through the door with an armload of parcels. He set them before me. "Pour Madame," he said.

Mr. Rochester's smile was huge. "Please Jane, open them. It will please us both. You will see."

To avoid any further arguments I began to open the packages. To my surprise they contained drawing pencils, color boxes, sheets of good drawing paper, and every other artist's tool I could wish for. Mr. Rochester was correct. I did love this gift, and I could not say no to it.

Mr. Rochester noticed the look of delight on my face right away. "I knew you would love it Jane. I hope this will help you occupy your days. I know how much joy you get from painting."

"Yes. Thank you so much Mr. Rochester. I know I will occupy my days much more now. I would so love to capture this beautiful coastline."

"Very good," he said. "It pleases me to see you so happy. I believe you should begin first thing tomorrow morning. Perhaps we shall stop for a few days at L'Estaque where so many artists do so dearly love to paint."

"That would be lovely," I said, although I wasn't sure how much I meant it. What was I agreeing to?

The next morning I was out on the cliffs ready to draw and paint. At first I just wanted to make some sketches, but I found myself wanting to paint and capture the colors of the sea and sky.

I painted the cliff edges with the sea in the distance. It was a lovely scene, but it needed something more. I added a gull or two, but that did not satisfy me either. I decided to include a man in the painting. I painted a man walking along the cliff, his back to the viewer, dressed in local garb. I knew as soon as I had begun to paint that the figure was Mr. Rochester, even if his face was not showing. Everything about the build of the figure to the angle of the painted stride suggested that it was Mr. Rochester. My heart wanted no other model.

How pleasant it was to sit on this beautiful cliff and paint. I was forced to admit that it was one of the few times in my life where I felt truly happy. How fleeting happiness had been for me.

I considered everything that had happened to me in my life. I was orphaned before I could ever know my parents. I was sent to live with my cruel aunt, who would not love me no matter how hard I tried to be a good child. I was starved at Lowood during my first months there. When I finally came to Thornfield and experienced love and happiness, it was snatched from me.

I had been a devout and well-behaved girl my whole life. How many cruel ways had the world repaid me? The God I tried so hard to follow had not given me much reward. It seemed that I was finding happiness only when I turned my back on Him and His laws.

Reader, it was an impious way to think, and I knew it. Satan himself was likely whispering in my ear, but I did not care at that moment. Mr. Rochester had once said that he had a right to get pleasure out of life. Hadn't he been so horribly unhappy? He could never please his unloving father, who would deny him the family fortune. He had been tricked into a bad marriage for the sake of not shaming his father by being a poor man. Should he not seek happiness no matter how unconventionally? Was either of us to blame for where we were now?

I considered the ignominy of being under Mr. Rochester's care and protection with no means to live independently. Even this seemed less despicable than it once had. Mr. Rochester had demanded nothing from me. I know he wished it, but rarely expressed his desires. He would not ask anything from me that I would not willingly give. I was as free as I could be under the circumstances.

We had made a place for ourselves together. We were far away from everyone and everything we knew. We could both be happy here if I allowed it.

After supper that night I chose to sit with Mr. Rochester while he enjoyed a glass of cognac. I asked him if he would be interested in seeing what I had painted that day.

"Indeed Jane," he exclaimed. "I am happy to see you are making use of your gift so earnestly."

"I must thank you again," I told him. "This has been a splendid day. I did so enjoy myself painting all day."

I handed him the two pencil sketches I had done first. He gave a nod of approval, but was not particularly impressed with my work. I then handed him the watercolor of the man on the cliffs.

His eyes widened at the picture. "Janet, am I imagining this, or is this man me?"

"It is you, sir. It is as I remembered you in the cove the other day. Somehow it seemed fitting to have you in the painting."

"It is beautiful work," he said. "I am humbled that you made me a part of it."

"Thank you, sir," I said. I could say no more. I did not know how else to express myself. It seemed that all of my emotions were tied in a bundle beneath the surface of my skin. Which one would escape and what would it cause me to do or say? I stood up from my chair and began to pace the room. My heart was beating wildly. I could not say why this was so.

As I passed his chair Mr. Rochester grabbed my hand and stopped me. "What is it, Jane? What troubles you?"

"Nothing sir. I am not troubled." I did not break away from his grasp.

He brought my hand to his lips and then looked right up into my eyes. "Jane, are you happy? Do you regret coming here to France with me?"

There was still a tiny part of me that should have said no, that should have broken from his grasp, and run back to England immediately. My conscience still had a voice somewhere inside me. I still could not deny the happiness I felt at that moment. The desire to love Mr. Rochester would blot out all reason. I answered, "No sir."

He gently pulled me onto his knee and enfolded me in his arms. "Am I still 'Sir' to you, Jane?"

"Edward," I said. "I do not regret coming here with you. I believe-" My breath was short and I think there were tears in my eyes. "I believe I am the happiest here I have ever been."

I buried my face in his shoulder, feeling tears flow. He soothed me, "Don't cry, Jane. You are happy now. You are safe with me. Hush now."

We were both silent for a few minutes. He held me and stroked my hair and I soon felt calmer. Finally he spoke.

"Jane?"

"Yes Edward?"

"It grows late. I believe it is time for bed."

"I suppose it is," I said.

He looked into my eyes; the look was serious and determined. "Jane, will you join me in my chamber tonight?"

I did not hesitate with my answer. "Yes. I will join you."

He looked close to tears himself as he pulled me close and kissed me heartily. He put me off his knee and rose. He took my hand and led me up the stairs.

I would go with him to his chamber every night from then on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

How long can one ignore the laws of God and man? What punishments lie in wait for those who defy the will of God and make idols of His creation? Can true happiness be obtained when we dismiss our Maker's rules?

For a little while all was paradise at Falaisesmer. As the long Mediterranean summer wore down to its final days, it seemed Edward and I were rarely out of each other's company. Days were spent in leisurely strolls through the countryside, in affairs with local friends, and nights (that often extended into lazy mornings, or begun in sweet afternoons) spent in each other's arms. We had learned to forget all that we had left behind. I knew somehow, that such pure happiness could not last.

I began to have dreams. Once more I began to dream of a mysterious child - always a sign of trouble in my past. I tried to ignore them, but the baby-phantoms insisted on making appearances.

One dream in particular I found quite disturbing. I was walking down a woodland path, leading a child by the hand who was barely able to walk. Suddenly the child broke free from my grasp and began to run with much more speed than one would expect of a child that age. Its journey ended in a glade where a waterfall spilled into a small pond.

I glanced into the pond. Many brightly-colored fish swam around it in slow circles. For a few moments, I watched them, mesmerized. I looked up and realized that the child was gone. It had slipped under the surface of the water. Panicked I began to search for it, pull it out before it drowned. Then I spotted it, swimming under the water as gracefully as the fish.

Suddenly the child began to turn into a fish. The legs fused to a tail. The skin became silvery scales. The head changed shape. Still the fish retained something of the child's face, and it looked at me almost balefully. Then, without warning, it jumped out of the water. I don't know if it meant me harm, but it flung itself at my face. Terrified, I screamed and woke.

I must have screamed out loud, for I woke Edward as well. "Jane, what is it my darling? Did you have a bad dream?"

"Yes, I did. I had a terrifying one."

He pulled me close and tried to soothe me. "It's all right Jane. Don't let your mental terrors frighten you. It was only a dream. What was it about?"

"I seem to have forgotten," I lied. I simply could not tell Mr. Rochester of the dream nor how it frightened me. In the waking world, it seemed rather silly.

"Go to sleep, my love. Dream only of happiness." He kissed me and held me close, but he was asleep again before long, while I continued awake. I could not shake the sense of dread I felt.

The next day I took a walk to the village to run some of the household errands. I loved walking through the shops and streets, where the local populace had come to embrace me as Madame Rochester, mistress of Falaisesmer. I went to the post office in case Edward had any correspondence (I had none for I contacted no one about my new residence). There was one letter for Mr. Rochester that day.

I normally paid little attention to Edward's business correspondence, although as fetching the post was often my duty (something that was a lingering remnant of Thornfield days), I had come to recognize the seals and handwriting of Edward's associates and agents. Today I saw a seal and writing that were completely unfamiliar to me. The letter was from London, and the name was Briggs.

I knew that Mr. Briggs was the solicitor for both my uncle in Madeira (whom I had given little thought to since our ill-fated wedding) and Mr. Mason. I wondered what business he would have with Mr. Rochester. I could not imagine what else he would have to say after stopping out marriage. He had let me know that my uncle has received my correspondance and was ill and close to dying. I knew little else of Mr. Briggs or my family.

I found myself being very afraid of whatever was in that letter. I had come to see Mr. Briggs as nothing but a bearer of bad news. I was quite impatient to find out what was in the letter and hoped Edward would let me know that day.

Edward was in the library when I returned and I brought him the letter. He was occupied with some other business, so he barely acknowledged it, and told me he would like to take a walk later. I left the room and waited.

Edward said nothing to me on our walk. He said nothing to me at tea time or at supper. I wondered if he had read it yet.

Another day went by and I still knew nothing of what was contained in Mr. Briggs's letter. I tried to tell myself that it was likely not anything of importance. Maybe it was related to the Mason family and Edward did not want to trouble me with thoughts of the maniac. I still could not shake this feeling that I needed to know what was in that letter, that it might somehow be important to me.

One morning Edward went out and I decided to do the unthinkable. I stayed behind and crept into the library and began to carefully search through his papers. I did not know if the letter was even opened yet or was possibly destroyed, but I needed to see for myself. I needed to at least try to know. I felt a sense of guilt going behind Edward's back like this. I felt a sense of betrayal, but it was just one of many sins that could be added to the pile I had already committed.

There was a pile of letters on Edward's desk that had been opened and placed aside. I sorted through them and did eventually find the one from Mr. Briggs. I read it with a sense of utter disbelief.

_Dear Mr. Rochester,_

_I am writing to inquire of the whereabouts of your former governess Jane Eyre. Her uncle, John Eyre of Madeira, has died and she is the sole heir to his estate, worth twenty thousand pounds. Mr. Eyre was had been quite insistent in his life that his niece claim her inheritance quickly. If you know where we can write to her and inform her of this, please let me know as soon as possible._

_Sincerely,_

_Edmond Briggs_

_-Street, London_

I was overwhelmed at the news of what I had just read. I had inherited a fortune - twenty thousand pounds! It was more money than I could ever dream of having. It brought a sense of shock, but also one of sadness. My uncle, my only living relative, was dead. I would never know him, even though he had been so eager to care for me throughout his life. What saddened me the most though was the Mr. Rochester did not want me to know this. Twenty thousand pounds would make me fully independent, and I suspected that was something Mr. Rochester wanted to avoid. Not only that, but having a fortune would mean I could take my place in society. I would no longer be obscure. I could not do this as Mr. Rochester's mistress.

I gave Mr. Rochester another chance to say something that evening. He continued silence on the subject. He did notice though my own silence and foul mood. "Are you well, Jane?" he asked at supper. "You have hardly touched your food and you look pale? Where is your beaming smile tonight?"

"I am not feeling well tonight," I said. "I hope you will excuse me and allow me stay in my own chamber tonight."

"Very well. If you are unwell you should rest. Why don't you go to bed now and see if you are better in the morning." As a rose and walked toward my room he stopped and kissed me. I barely returned the embrace.

I decided to write to Mr. Brigg's myself. I asked him what I needed to do to claim my fortune and that I would come to London and meet with him if necessary. While I waited for a reply, I continued to wait for Mr. Rochester to say something to me, but he never did. I continued to grow distant from him. I said I wasn't feeling well, and it was true. It seemed that I was often tired and needed more rest than usual. Mr. Rochester expressed his concern, but I rebuffed most attempts he made to soothe me. I continued to beg to stay within my own chamber at night.

I did eventually hear from Mr. Briggs. He suggested I come to London and sign all necessary documents. I decided that I would go. I only had one problem. I had no money of my own. I had enough pocket money to take me as far as Marseilles, but nothing that would provide conveyance as far as England.

I found myself doing something utterly unthinkable. I had accepted little jewelry from Mr. Rochester and rarely wore what I did have. I did not like the way it made me feel like his possession, his doll that he could dress. I felt that none of it truly belonged to me. Now I knew it was my only way of leaving. I found a ring, a locket, and a pearl necklace that had once had special meaning to me that I was almost loath to keep. In Marseilles I could change these for a ticket to England.

I did not tell Mr. Rochester of my plan. The day I left I left early in the morning before anyone was awake. I packed a small bag and wrote Mr. Rochester a note that I left on the breakfast room table.

_Dear Mr. Rochester,_

_I am sorry to leave you thus, but I feel that I must leave this place. I have inherited a fortune from my Uncle John in Madeira, who died quite recently. It was he who helped stop our wedding by sending Mr. Mason to the church that day. _

_I am going to London to meet with my uncle's solicitor. Please do not follow me. I must do this alone and claim my place in society as an independent woman. _

_Thank you for all of your great kindness to me. Our time at Falaisesmer has been the happiest of my life, but I feel that it must end now._

_Please know that I will always love you with all of my heart, but I can no longer live with lies and deceptions. _

_Love,_

_Jane_

I sobbed as I wrote the note and sobbed as I left it. I could barely keep myself composed as I made the journey. I did not know if I could survive the heartbreak. But I did survive and my new life, whatever it held, lay ahead of me.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

It was frightening trying to make my way in Marseilles safely and secure a passage to London. I worried about being molested by unsavory types or that I might be looked upon with suspicion as I was carrying valuables on my person to sell. I felt a terrible guilt that I was rejecting Mr. Rochester's gifts as well as for taking things that I never truly felt should be mine.

The trip to London was not a smooth one. Now that summer was over seas were rougher and I felt sick for much of the journey. After much suffering, I did make it safely to London and was able to meet with Mr. Briggs.

"You are a very fortunate young lady, Miss Eyre. Your uncle left his entire fortune to you. He left your cousins nothing more than thirty guineas."

Had I heard Mr. Briggs correctly? To what cousins did he refer? "Cousins?" I asked . "What cousins?"

He replied, "The Rivers family. The children of your father's and uncle's sister."

"I never knew my father had a sister. Until this year I never knew he had a brother."

"Yes," Mr. Briggs answered. "Maria Eyre married the Reverend Rivers and they lived in the north. She has been dead many years and her husband, incumbent of the village of Morton, died only recently. He left behind three children - St. John, Diana, and Mary. I believe Mr. St. John now occupies his father's position as village parson."

I could not believe my good fortune. I had more relatives. I had cousins. I knew that I had to contact them right away. I begged Mr. Briggs for an address to which I might write. He was able to provide me with the address of St. John (he believed the sisters lived elsewhere). I wrote to him that night.

With no place to go, no home to return, I stayed in London for the time. Now that I would be waiting for a reply from my cousin, I realized this was the right decision.

I did hear from him promptly. He told me that Uncle John and his father had quarreled over a bad business deal many years ago and that they had never forgiven each other. St. John and his sisters had hoped that our uncle would make amends by leaving them something in his will, but he had decided to leave it all to me. As Mr. Briggs had told me previously, their father had recently died and the family home had been abandoned. St. John took his post at the Morton church and lived at the parsonage, while his sisters held positions as governesses in the south.

I wrote then to the sisters and expressed a desire to know my new family. They were extremely agreeable and kind in their letters and said they hoped to meet me in the future. They had been saddened by the loss of their father and their ancestral home and said that my writing to them made them feel cheered.

Reader, my heart went out to this kind family. I felt guilty that I had become gorged with wealth while they struggled in poverty, separated from each other for long periods of time. I realized it was within my power to do something for them.

I had inherited a sum of twenty thousand pounds. That amount could easily be divided among the four remaining Eyre descendants. We were all equal relations to John Eyre. None of us were close to him. None of us had ever even met him. Why should I be more entitled to his estate than they were? We could each do well with five thousand pounds.

I discussed this with Mr. Briggs. He said it would not be a problem to do this. I wrote immediately to my cousins to tell them of my plan. At first they were reluctant.

"_Uncle John was free to leave his money to whomever he liked_," Mary wrote. "_The money is legally yours_."

"_The money is morally all of ours_," I replied. "_I must and will do this_."

They all eventually agreed. We decided that we would meet at their home, Moor House, for Christmas and finalize all of the plans.

I had not believed that I could ever feel happy since I left France and Mr. Rochester. I had not believed that I might have a real home and family. I headed to the north to meet my family and start what I hoped would be a happy new life- as happy as it could be without Edward anyway.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

I had grown so accustomed to the warm and sunny climate of coastal France that I was growing more intolerant of the chill rain and wind of an English winter. The journey north to Morton was most uncomfortable as I felt stifled and cramped in the coach, but took little relief when I left it. I often felt sick and even faint.

It was a relief, however, to leave the coach when it brought me to a crossroads called Whitcross - a signpost where four roads met. Here I was greeted by my cousin St. John Rivers.

I was quite surprised to see my cousin for the first time. He was nothing like me in terms of physiognomy. He was tall with fair hair and bright blue eyes. His face so symmetrical and his features so regular that one could believe he was chiseled marble made flesh. Could this man truly be my cousin?

"Miss Eyre," he greeted me coolly. "Welcome to Morton. We are most pleased to have your here."

"Thank you, sir," I said. "Are we very near your home?"

He replied, "I hope you do not mind walking. It is not close, but we have no conveyance available to us. You are up to the task I hope."

Normally I would have not hesitated to answer as I had come to love long walks, but the sickness and fatigue from which I had been suffering gave me pause. I was beginning to know all too well just how unfit I was becoming for such strenuous activity. Still, I felt I did not want to displease my cousin. "I am. Please lead the way."

We talked little as we walked. I asked him a few questions about the village and his home and family. He did not give me very detailed answers. He did not appear to be trying to check inquiry, but was also not trying to encourage it. He asked me little about my own journey, but also asked me no questions about where I had been prior to my learning of my inheritance. For this I was grateful.

We finally arrived at Moor House where St. John's two sisters were eagerly awaiting my arrival. They were far happier to see me than their brother had been. The introductions were cheerful.

"Do sit down," Diana said removing my bonnet and taking my gloves. "Mary, have Hannah make some tea."

Mary left the room to do so and reappeared quickly. "Tea will be ready soon. I do so hope you are up to talking. We want to find out all about you. I also hope you are not too fatigued by having to walk the whole way."

I first felt a certain fear when Mary said she wanted to know all about me, but then it seemed I was ready with my answer for how tired I was. Before I had a chance to sit, I fainted.

I came to consciousness on a sofa with Diana hovering over me with a cool cloth on my forehead.

"Stand back," I heard St. John say. "Give her some room."

I sat up slowly as Mary and Diana attempted to protest. "I'm all right," I said. "I'm so sorry to have trouble you like this. I don't feel this is the best of introductions."

Diana quickly responded. "It's no trouble. You are clearly exhausted. We should not have made you walk. St. John, you should have tried to find a neighbor to hire to drive her."

I protested that I was used to walking and things like this rarely happened to me. I assured them I was well. They were finally able to stop worrying. I was able to sit up and consume my tea heartily. I found I had an invigorated appetite if not invigorated energy.

We spent the rest of the evening in lively conversation. The more I talked to my cousins, the better I liked them. I tried to keep my history vague. I told them I had been raised a dependent by my maternal aunt-in-law and sent to Lowood school for education. I finished my story with my tenure as a governess at Thornfiled. They did not need to know anything beyond that, not yet.

When I woke up the next morning I felt as I did when I first arrived. I was tired and nearly sick as well. I met my cousins for breakfast and they all noticed it right away.

"Jane," exclaimed Diana as I arrived in the breakfast room, "are you still tired from your journey? You look unwell."

Mary smiled. "Such a pleasant greeting first thing in the morning, Di. I'm sure all Jane needs is some breakfast."

St. John then chimed in, "Yes, I'm sure some breakfast is all she needs." He then aimed a penetrating stare in my direction. "Is that correct Jane?"

"Certainly, sir," I mumbled, reaching for the tea that their servant Hannah had just poured for me. I felt little hunger, but managed to eat enough to avoid any further questions from the Rivers family.

I began spending my days with Diana and Mary, enjoying amiable conversations, joining them on their quest to learn German, and drawing and painting with them. They were much better learned than I and I derived both greater knowledge and much pleasure from our time together.

St. John kept apart from us. He was tireless in his duties to attend the sick and suffering in the parish, and perform his ministerial duties, and was often out. When he was home with us, he would often sit with us while we talked, but would say little. He often seemed to be examining me. I did my best to hide my discomfort, but there seemed little I could hide from St. John Rivers.

I learned that St. John did not intend to spend his life as a parson in Morton. His intention was to go to India as a missionary in the spring. On the rare occasions he spent time in conversation with Mary, Diana, and me, he would become animated and eager when the topic was introduced. He felt that life as a simple village parson would not use all of his talents and would not truly glorify God properly. He wanted to do something meaningful and heroic. He realized that a missionary life would fulfill all of his desires to be a soldier, statesman, and orator as well as priest.

Diana and Mary were not so pleased with St. John's decision. They had hoped that his new fortune might persuade him to stay in Morton. A local young woman, Rosamond Oliver was quite fond of him and it seemed the feelings were mutual. She was the daughter of Morton's sole rich man and it was always thought that one reason why St. John would not marry her was because he would bring no fortune to the marriage. With five thousand pounds he might be persuaded to stay and marry Miss Oliver. This was not the case. Even with a fortune St. John would not give up his scheme.

"It is noble and heroic, but it breaks my heart," Diana said.

"We lost our father. We nearly lost home. Now we will lose our brother," Mary added.

When the subject of India arose, there was nothing I could do to console my cousins. I could only commiserate. I hated that I had found an adopted brother of my own and yet would lose him again so quickly.

I did not know just how quickly I would lose him.

I was rarely ever not in the presence of Diana and Mary, but one afternoon they chanced to be out of the house while I had stayed behind. St. John had stayed behind as well. I was not entirely comfortable with this. I still feared St. John, still felt him watching me, seeming to judge me. Could he see inside my thoughts? Could he see what secrets I hid? I was about to find out.

St. John was at his desk while I sat on the parlor sofa and sketched. He suddenly rose and approached me.

"Miss Eyre," he said (this was odd as I had expressed a wish that he use my given name as he would with his sisters). "I must speak to you about something quite important."

"Very well, sir," I said. "Please sit down."

He took a seat opposite me. He took a deep breath.

"Miss Eyre," he hesitated a moment, stumbled over his words, rubbed his hands together before finally continuing. "Miss Eyre, as a clergyman I spend much of my time among the sick and ailing. I have witnessed much in a short time. I have seen the ways in which women can stumble."

He took another pause. He looked at me as if expecting a response. I could say nothing. He finally continued.

"It appears to me, from all I have witnessed since your arrival, that you are with child."

He spoke the words I never dared say aloud, that I rarely ever dared think of. I realized then that I could no longer outwardly deny what had happened to me. I refused to look at him. I said nothing.

"You don't deny it?" He asked.

"No sir," I replied.

"You have not left anything out of your past. You are not, and have never been married."

"No sir."

"What have you to say for yourself?"

"I have nothing to say. You are correct. I am with child. What else can I say?"

He stood up. His eyes flashed angrily. "How can you sit there and give no account for yourself? Have you no shame? Is there not a shred of decency left in you? What dishonor have you brought into my home?"

I should have been terrified, but somehow I found the courage to not only answer him, but defy him. "I did not come here to bring dishonor to your home. You invited me here, St. John. I did not realize the conditions for accepting your invitation."

My sarcasm angered him more, but his dramatic rages only began to seem more comic and easier to defy. "What brazen words you speak! I cannot believe that you have no sense of shame whatsoever."

I replied, "I have more shame than I ever cared to carry in this lifetime. However, I cannot let shame stop me from living my life and doing what I must do."

"So what is it you plan to do, Miss Eyre? How will you live out your life with your bastard child?"

I answered, "I shall move someplace where no one knows me and pass as a widow. I have my inheritance to help keep myself." Hitherto I had never considered this plan, but as I spoke it aloud, it made sense to me.

"What of the child's father?" he asked.

"What of him?" I replied.

"Is he aware of this? Does he plan to do right by you?"

"He is not aware of this," I answered. "I do not wish for him to know."

"Who is he?" St. John demanded angrily.

I told him the truth. "He was my former employer. He loved me very much and wished to marry me."

St. John was now sarcastic. "Oh yes. He was in love and wished to marry you - just as all men say when they are about to seduce a young girl. Miss Eyre, you are not only brazen, you are foolish as well. I thought better of you."

I was angry now. "He does love me. He loves me very much. He didn't marry me because he was already married."

"Well, that just explains everything, doesn't it?" St. John said. He seduced you and he was already married."

I tried to explain, but the story sounded bizarre even to my ears. "His wife is a lunatic. He had kept her shut up under watch and ward. No one knew of her. No one knew he was married. Neither of us knew that Mr. Briggs was also her brother's solicitor. Uncle John sent Briggs and her brother to stop the wedding - at the very altar."

St. John did not like the story any more. "So this lying, deceitful man was caught in an act of bigamy. Yet you still say you love him."

I finished the story for St. John. "I loved him enough to ignore my conscience and live with him in France for three months."

St. John was silent. He had always been cold and hard and emotionless. This outburst of rage seemed to have exhausted him. He was breathing deeply trying to calm himself as he contemplated what to say to me next. After some minutes, he finally spoke.

"Miss Eyre, I want you to leave Moor House. I cannot expose my sisters to this. I cannot sully my family name this way. You must go and make haste. I wish you luck and I will keep you in my prayers. I hope this is the end of your wicked ways and that you have learned your lesson."

Tears began to drip from my eyes. I had found a family, a haven, a home. Now I was being cast out. I knew St. John would have no pity for me. I wiped my eyes and simply said, "It grows later and it appears to be snowing outside. May I stay tonight?"

"Yes. I do not wish to throw you out thus. Please stay as long as you need to make proper arrangements, but do not tarry."

"Thank you," I said. I turned and left the room.

Mary and Diana returned. Neither St. John nor I said anything to them. I decided I would wait till morning to tell them I was leaving. Mary and Diane both seemed concerned about my health at supper for I looked more unwell than ever. I was grateful that St. John said nothing to them. I did want to tell them the truth, but hoped that St. John wouldn't tell them first.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The next morning I prepared myself for the journey ahead, still unsure of where I should go. I had the means to go wherever I chose, but there was no place I really wanted to be. The weather outside did not look promising for a journey. I was feeling worse than I ever had physically. Once more I felt nothing but dread as I looked ahead to my life.

When I went downstairs for breakfast I saw St. John was waiting for me. The anger was gone from his face. He almost looked kind.

"Good morning Jane," he said.

"Good morning, St. John," I answered. I continued to feel some unease at his kindness.

"Jane, I feel I must apologize for how I behaved last night. Clearly Satan has led you astray, but God forgives and so must I. It is the job of the pastor to bring stray lambs into the flock and show Christian charity, is it not?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you. I know I have learned my lesson in denying God's will and I do repent and seek His forgiveness. It would mean much to me to have yours as well."

I could not allow myself to be too pleased with my cousin's olive branch. I suspected there were thorns among the flowers.

"Jane, come sit with me in the parlor for a few minutes. I would like to discuss your future with you." I dutifully followed him there, not knowing what schemes he had prepared for me. He sat down with me on the sofa and tried to look relaxed.

"Jane, you know that I am going to India as a missionary in the spring. God has laid it on my heart that I must go forth and bring His lost children to the fold. Has God ever spoken thus to you?"

"No. I have never been called," I replied.

St. John answered, "Few are truly called and many who are called do not listen. Let me speak for your heart Jane. Come with me to India. Be my helpmeet and fellow laborer. Marry me and let me restore you honor."

"St. John," I exclaimed, "You cannot be serious. Have some mercy!"

"I am very serious, Jane. I see that you are an intelligent and hard-working woman despite your feminine failings. You would be invaluable as a helper among Indian women and a teacher in Indian schools."

"I'm not fit for it. I have no vocation."

"Who is fit for it?" he replied. "God rewards sacrifice, Jane."

"St. John, you would send me to such a dangerous place to raise my child? I fear I may not live long in such a climate myself. I do not wish such a fate for my child.

St. John was ready with an answer. "You worry for yourself?"

"I do. God did not give me my life to throw away."

St. John was growing more impatient. "You will be living under His protection and mine. Should you not survive, your rewards in Heaven will be great. Besides many missionaries raise families in India. You child will be well cared for. If you marry me, he will have a father as well."

I felt somewhat indignant. "What kind of a father will he have? Remember how you behaved last night, St. John. Will you look at this child with contempt all of its life as his mother's bastard? What husband's heart do you have for me? I love you as my brother St. John, but this is not something we can't look at lightly."

"I need a helper. You need a husband. What better arrangement can be made Jane? I think you should seriously consider my offer." He then added somewhat contemptuously, "You are not likely to receive a better one."

I was stung by his words, however true they were. I was about to respond, but something more pressing needed my attention. A pain shot through my body.

St. John was still waiting for an answer. "Will you accept me, Jane? Will you make that sacrifice to the God who will forgive you all of your sins?"

An involuntary moan escaped my lips. St. John suddenly began to pay attention to me. "What is it Jane? Are you all right?"

I stood up, but quickly doubled over. "No. I'm not well. Something is wrong. I must go lie down." I moved toward the stairs. Every step was agony.

St. John came to me with surprising tenderness. "Lean on me Jane. I will help you."

I accepted his help as I cried out in pain again.

Through the haze of pain I heard St. John exclaim, "Good God!"

He saw the blood before I did.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

I cannot describe the pain I suffered for the next few hours. It was not just the physical pain, but the mental anguish that tortured me. I thought I had received my punishment for my sins, but it seemed my punishment was not yet over.

I was given heavy draughts of potent medicines that made me sleep for what seemed like days on end. By the time I had awakened from the haze, I had no idea how many days had gone by, or who knew about what had happened to me, and how much anyone knew.

I only knew when I awoke that I was keenly aware that I was no longer expecting a child. I was unsure of how I felt about this. I had tried to deny my condition. I had tried to ignore it. I hadn't wanted to believe it. I knew it would bring shame to both me and my family. I was also devastated by the idea that the one thing of Edward's that I would always have with me was gone. My child would have been be a sign of shame, but also a reminder of that brief period of happiness I had shared with Mr. Rochester.

Lying in bed for so long I could not help but think of Mr. Rochester and what his fate would be. I knew he would be devastated by my departure. Would he grow desperate, sink into degradation? Would he leave France? If he left France, would he have followed me to England? I had told him I was going to London in my letter. He could have gone to Mr. Briggs and tried to find me, although I had told Mr. Briggs that he was not to reveal my whereabouts. Could Mr. Briggs be bribed? I thought this unlikely since Mr. Rochester had not come after me. I thought of Mr. Rochester alone, desperate, never knowing where I am, and never knowing that there had been a child.

Still I felt the anger over his withholding the news of my inheritance from me. It had been such a selfish act. I understood why he thought it necessary, but I hated that he still wanted to control and isolate me so.

I began to cry softly. I cried for Mr. Rochester, my lost innocence, my lost hopes, and my lost child.

Diana entered the room.

"Jane, you're awake. I hope you're feeling better," she said cheerfully.

I could not stop my crying, and she was quick to notice. She ran to my bedside and took my hand.

"Jane, are you all right? Can we do anything for you? Poor dear! I know you have been through so much."

I wondered what St. John had told her. Did she know my story? Did she judge me? I knew I had to ask.

"Diana, what do you and Mary know?"

"About what?" she asked.

I composed myself as best I could and continued. "What do you know of what just happened to me, of my past?"

"I know you just lost a child, Jane. As to your past, I do not pry. It is none of my business."

I knew she was trying hard to believe that, but I also knew that it was human to be inquisitive and to judge. I knew she cared about me and wanted to think well of me. I also knew she was curious to see if her newfound sister was hiding dark secrets. I longed for a confidante. I knew I had to risk telling her everything and hope that she would not shun me as her brother had.

"Di, I must tell you everything. I cannot go on any longer carrying this burden. I want you to know exactly what happened to me, and what kind of woman you are claiming as your 'sister'."

"Very well, Jane," she replied. "I will listen if you feel you must tell me. But don't feel you need to for my benefit."

I told her of how I fell in love with Mr. Rochester and of our aborted wedding. I told her of my rash decision not to leave him because I could not stand to break his heart or my own. I admitted that after I dealt with my initial guilt, that I had happily lived as his mistress until I came to realize that he was hiding the news of my inheritance from me and I realized that I could no longer live under such false pretenses. The only question she asked was that if he knew I had been with child. I answered in the negative. He might feel an illegitimate child should be sent away and he might never acknowledge it.

Diana listened quietly and calmly and made no judgments. When I was finished with my tale, she simply said, "I feel you have paid for your mistakes, Jane. I truly believe you deserve happiness in the future."

"I hope you're right, Di. I'm just so unsure of what do to next. I can't go back to him, but I have nowhere else to go."

"Jane, no matter what St. John has said or done, please know that you always have a home here. You are welcome to stay at Moor House."

They would tell me that now that I no longer carry obvious signs of dishonor, I thought to myself.

"I can't do that right now," I said. "Perhaps I will return when St. John goes to India, but I think I need to go away for a while."

Diana looked unhappy. She had something on her mind. "Do you know, Jane, that I had hoped St. John would offer to marry you himself."

"He did offer," I admitted. "He made the offer right before I fell ill."

Diana brightened. "Oh you will marry him then! He still stay in England."

"I'm afraid that was not the offer. He wanted me to join him as a missionary in India."

Diana frowned. "That would be unthinkable. I'm glad you turned him down and I understand why you would want to leave, even though I wish you would not."

"Thank you, Di. I really do hope to return here again."

She hugged me and left the room, telling me I should rest a bit more before I thought about going anywhere.

I was well enough to go downstairs and join my family the next day. Unfortunately Mary and Diana were out and St. John was in.

He looked pleased to see me. "Jane, I'm glad to see you well again. I hope perhaps this has brought you to repentance."

"St. John, I will spend my life in repentance, but I am well."

"Jane, I want you to know my offer still stands. You can come with me to India as my wife. You will do much good in God's name."

I was tempted for a moment, Reader. Perhaps marriage and the missionary life would be the perfect penance for me. Then I realized that I could not stand the idea of being married to St. John with his harsh judgment of me. I knew he did not love me as a husband should. I knew he would never love anyone whom he considered a woman of compromised virtue.

"I'm afraid the answer is still no, St. John, but I do appreciate your offer. I know you want what is best for me." This was true. I believed that St. John truly was a good man, harsh as he was. He had wanted to help me in his own way.

Three days later I felt well enough to travel, so I said goodbye to my cousins and headed to the one place I wanted to go.

I took a coach all of the way back to Thornfield. I wanted to be where this had all begun. I would visit with Mrs. Fairfax. I was sure she would want to know that I was well. She might also give me news of Mr. Rochester. Did she know if he was still in France? Was he in England? Was he elsewhere on the continent? What was his state of health? I would make those inquiries and put my mind at rest.

I arrived in Hay in the early afternoon. I checked into a small inn, The Rochester Arms. As soon as my bag was taken off my hands, I walked through the fields excitedly to the mansion. How much I longed to lay eyes on it. How shocked and horrified I was when I did.

I looked to a stately house and saw a blackened ruin.

It was as I had seen it in one of my dreams. The facade was just a shell-like wall with black holes where windows once were. The roof and battlements had all crashed. It seemed that I could still smell scorched earth.

When did this happen and how? Were any lives lost along with the mansion? Did the master know of this? It seemed I stood the entire afternoon in the cold just staring, as if I could bring the house back to life if I looked at it long enough, as if I could convince myself I was just dreaming. Finally it grew too cold and I headed back to the inn.

I sat by the fire and asked for a cup of tea. I bade the innkeeper stay with me and answer a few questions.

"Do you know what befell Thornfield Hall? I have been away from these parts for quite some time."

He seemed quite willing to talk. "A dreadful calamity, such a dreadful, dreadful calamity," he said. "Such a loss of property."

I dared not ask him yet about loss of lives. I asked him if he knew how it started.

"Oh we have our suspicions, we do. Did you know Mr. Rochester secretly had a wife? There were rumors in the neighborhood for years about the mysterious lunatic kept under watch and ward at Thornfield, but we all thought she had been his mistress. She was his wife. It was found out in the strangest way-"

I cut him off. "But how did the fire start? Did the lunatic have a hand in it?"

"Oh yes. You see, Mr. Rochester tried to take another wife. There was this governess living at Thornfield that Mr. Rochester fell in love with. All of the servants saw him and said they had never seen anyone so much in love. He was nearly forty and she was not yet twenty and it was as if he were bewitched."

"What does that have to do with the fire?" I asked impatiently, not liking to hear my own story thus told.

"Well, the lunatic would often sneak out of her room when her keeper, Mrs. Poole, was asleep. Mrs. Poole was a bit too fond of gin and it was easy for the wife to get the key from her when the drink made her sleep soundly. She would cause all sorts of mischief. She was said to have nearly burnt her husband in his bed once. It was said the night of the fire she left her room and set fire first to the bed of the governess and then the bed of her husband. It was as if she knew. Then she ran to the roof and jumped. We all saw her standing there with her black hair streaming. The next minute she was dead as the stones her brains and blood were spattered on."

"Good God!" I exclaimed.

"It was frightful ma'am for sure. Fortunately no other lives were lost. The servants all escaped. Mr. Rochester had left the country after his wedding to that governess was stopped at the very altar. Some say he and the governess ran away together, although no one ever saw them leave. The governess just disappeared."

"Does Mr. Rochester know what happened?" I asked. "Did no one inform him?"

"He was informed, ma'am. He came back to England and now has shut himself up like a hermit. He is quite broken down, they say."

"Do you mean he is in England? Where is he living?"

"He is at Ferndean Manor, one of the Rochester's old hunting lodges. Quite a desolate spot. I suppose he prefers it."

"Thank you," I said. I dismissed the innkeeper and pondered what I should do next. Bertha Rochester was dead. I was free to marry Mr. Rochester if I chose. I just felt so much bitterness, had so many unanswered questions, that I knew I could not just run into his arms. I decided to ponder this and decide what to do in the morning.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 12**

The next morning I found myself drawn once more to the ruins of Thornfield. I walked about the abandoned grounds. The neglected gardens had little time to become overgrown before the chill of winter had stopped them. Snow was falling once again and covered everything with an eerie and deadly blanket.

I walked up the laurel walk to the old horse chestnut tree. Here was the place where Mr. Rochester had pretended to send me away, and then asked me to marry him. I had been so happy that night. I was innocent of all that would befall me. It had been less than a year ago, but it seemed like centuries ago. So much had happened to me since that night - things I had never believed could ever happen to me. I was a different Jane Eyre from the one who sat beneath this tree and dreamed of a bright future.

When the lightning had hit the tree that night, it had been split, but not felled. The two halves of the tree had stood upright in their strong base. Now the harsh winter had brought one of the halves down. It lay fallen and blackened, smashing through the bench at the base. The falling snow attempted to whitewash it unsuccessfully. The sight of it saddened me profoundly. I found myself reaching out and touching it, as if I could somehow bring life to it once more. My fingers left cold imprints in the snow that were quickly covered again.

I felt a strange shiver go through me. It seemed as if I were not alone. Thornfield had no ghosts, Mrs. Fairfax had once said, but something was haunting it now. I was sure I was being watched. I sensed a presence.

"Jane," I heard a very familiar voice say.

I turned from the tree and my reverie and saw Mr. Rochester standing there - no ghost, but a living, breathing man. I had not expected to see him there. I answered, "Mr. Rochester." I could say no more. I was tongue tied.

There was a look of uncontained joy on his face as well as shock. "I never expected to see you here. Are you sure I am not dreaming? Are you a ghost?"

I answered, "You are not dreaming sir. I came here last night."

"Why, Jane? What brought you here?"

My reasons sounded almost incredulous, but I told him the truth. "I just wanted to see Thornfield. I had hoped if I came back, I might hear news of you. I had thought I might speak with Mrs. Fairfax and let her know how I was faring."

He only answered, "Mrs. Fairfax is staying at a distance with friends now. I have set her up with an annuity for life."

"That was very kind of you sir," I answered.

"She was a good woman who served me well. She deserved it."

"Yes, she did," I answered. I could say no more.

We were silent for a few more moments. He continued to ask me questions. "So Jane, why are you here wandering through these ruined gardens on this cold day? Surely you have no more reason to be here at Thornfield now that you have seen it."

I told him the truth, "I felt I had had come back here. Something just compelled me."

He began to ask more questions. "Are you well Jane? Did you inherit your fortune? What have you been doing with yourself these past two months?"

I told him my story briefly. "I did go to London to claim my fortune. While I was there I learned my father had had a sister as well as a brother and I had cousins in the north. I stayed with them for a while. Our uncle had left his entire fortune to me. They inherited nothing and I felt that they had been cheated. I divided my inheritance among the four of us."

"But you have left them, Jane?"

"Yes. For now I have left them. I suppose I will return at some point. I am an independent woman now, a rich woman. I can go where I please." It was my turn to now ask, "Sir, why are you wandering these ruined grounds? How did you come to be here?"

My question seemed to break him from his shocked and confused state. "I come here often. I can't seem to stay away from revisiting the places where you and I had shared so much happiness. Since you left me those memories are all I have."

"You stay here in England?" I asked. "You are not returning to Falaisesmer or to the continent?"

"I cannot be away from England as long as I know you are here."

A harsh wind blew down the laurel walk and stuck my face with snow. I shivered. Mr. Rochester saw this.

"Jane, there is much I would like to ask you. I would like to talk to with you more, but it is clearly too cold out here. Will you come to tea tomorrow at Ferndean?"

I considered the offer. While I still felt so much anger and confusion over everything that had happened, I also still loved Mr. Rochester more than I could say. I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to know if he had anything to tell me. "Yes. I will come to tea tomorrow."

"Very well. I will see you at three o'clock at Ferndean. I must bid you good day before you freeze to death out here." He said it with a slight laugh. I was pleased to see he still had some humor about him.

"I will be happy to," I said.

Just as I turned to walk away I heard him call out to me. "Jane!"

I turned, "Yes sir?"

"Do you despise me?"

"No sir," I said and continued my walk back to the inn without another word.

The Rochester Arms provided me with a chaise to take me to Ferndean the next day. The innkeeper was not wrong when he called it, "Quite a desolate spot." It was buried deep in the woods - a house of moderate size and no architectural pretensions. My heart beat fast as I approached. There was so much I needed to talk about with Mr. Rochester, and yet I knew I would be tempted to simply fall into his arms. I couldn't allow myself that luxury. I could never be with him unless I was sure he could truly treat me as his equal.

I approached the door and knocked. I was surprised to see Mary answer. Were John and Mary his only servants now?

"Mary, how are you?" I asked.

"I can't believe it's you, Miss. I've been told you are having tea with the Master?"

"Yes. I hope it won't be an inconvenience if I install myself here tonight. I dismissed my carriage."

"It may be difficult, but I believe I can make something do," she said.

With that she led me into the parlor. It was not the splendid drawing room of Thornfield, but looked comfortable enough. Mr. Rochester sat in his chair by the cold fireplace, looking agitated. He must have been concerned that I would not show. When Mary announced me he nearly jumped out of his chair.

"Jane, he exclaimed. "I'm glad you came. I was afraid you might change your mind."

"I am here, sir, as I said I would be."

He bade me to sit and sent Mary to fetch the tea.

"I see you have dismissed your other servants," I said.

"Yes," he replied. "This house does not need a full complement of staff and John and Mary are sometimes the only ones I can stand to have around me."

He did not beat around the bush with finding out what he really wanted to know. He asked me right away, "Jane, why did you feel you needed to leave me this way?"

It was time to confront him. I had to tell him what I knew. "You knew that I had inherited a fortune from my uncle before I left you, did you not?"

He looked shocked at my question. He did not hesitate too long before answering though. "Yes. I knew. You were aware that I knew?"

Feeling nervous about what I was about to confess, I stood and began to pace the room. I could not quite look him in the eye. "Yes. I went to fetch the post one day and I saw you had a letter from Mr. Briggs. I had this suspicion, and I don't know why, that it might concern me. I thought you might say something to me about it. When you said nothing, I did something terrible. I went to the library when you were not there and went through your things. I found his letter to you and I wrote to him myself."

I stopped and looked at him. "I'm sorry for doing that sir. It was wrong of me. I just had to know. When more time went by and you still said nothing to me, I felt that you did not want me having a fortune, and that I would have to leave you if I wanted to claim it."

He sighed deeply. He did not look angry. I returned to my chair. Finally he said, "I suppose it wasn't wrong Jane. You had a right to know and I didn't want to tell you."

I asked the obvious questions. "Why? Did you really wish to have me always dependent on you?"

He seemed surprised by the question. "I never thought of it that way. Jane, I was so afraid that once you had a fortune you would have friends and family and a place in society. I was afraid it would take you away from me. You would not wish to shock or offend anyone if you stayed with me. I selfishly thought it would keep you by my side.

"I'm sorry, Jane. I'm very sorry. We were so happy for that time in France. I wanted to just keep our own little world the way it was with just you and me. I never meant to hurt you. I suppose in some small way I did want to keep you dependent on me."

He had one more question for me. "How were you able to pay for your passage to London if you had not yet claimed your fortune?"

It was time for another confession. "I had to sell some of the jewelry you gave me, sir. I know those were gifts and I feel quite bad that I had to do that."

"It serves me right, Jane. I know how you hated jewels and fine clothes. None of that is worth a filip if you're not with me."

He looked at me so pleadingly. I know he longed to hear me say he had my forgiveness and that I would be his. There was still one more confession I had to make that hung between us, that stopped me from saying exactly what Mr. Rochester wanted to hear.

"Sir, there is one more thing I must tell you. I suppose little of it matters now, but I feel you must still know."

He saw how distressed I looked. "What is it Jane? What still troubles you?" His own look was equally agitated.

"Sir," I swallowed and hesitated, but finally said what I had to say. "There was a child."

A look of pure shock came over his face. "A child? What child? What do you mean?"

The story now spilled out. "I was with child when I left you, sir."

"You...were...with...child," he repeated. "I knew none of it? You would not tell me this?"

"What would you have done?" I countered. "Would you have sent it away? Would you have acknowledged a bastard? I know you are not fond of children, sir. I did not want my child to live his life like Adele."

"That is quite unfair judgment of me Jane. Adele's mother was faithless and there is little evidence that Adele is mine. A child of yours, one that I know would be mine, that is something I must acknowledge no matter what the world's opinion would be of me."

Tears dripped down my cheeks to hear these words. I don't know if I believed him or not, but I still felt as if I had made a mess of things. It would no longer matter if he were telling the truth. He saw my sadness now. He realized I had been speaking in the past tense.

"What of it now, Jane? Is there to be a child?"

I shook my head. "I lost it not two weeks ago."

He came up to me and threw his arms about me. He held me so tightly it was hard to breathe. "Jane, I'm so sorry. Don't be angry with me now. Stay with me. I will take care of you always and I will never again try to keep you beneath me."

I sobbed in his arms for a long time. I thought of everything I had done and all of the consequences. I had made a rash decision in a moment of passion to go to France with Mr. Rochester. Then I left him not knowing that I might be free to marry him in a mere month. How many bad decisions had I made? What a mess I had made of everything!

I realized that there was nothing in the past that could be undone. I could not deny how happy I had been at Falaisesmer. I also knew that if I hadn't left Mr. Rochester when I did, I might not have ever known my family. Some good had come of my actions. It seems that despite all that had happened, I had still found myself in the place I most wanted to be - in Mr. Rochester's arms once again. It was time to stop dwelling on the past. We could move forward. I became calmer.

Mr. Rochester released me slightly and lifted my face to look into my eyes. "Jane, are you better now?"

"Yes, sir."

"Jane, will you marry me?"

"Yes, sir."

He was shocked with the swiftness and bluntness of my answer. "You will marry your deceitful seducer?"

"Yes, sir."

"You will marry a man twenty years older than you, who sometimes grows a bit possessive?"

"Yes, sir."

"Most truly dear?"

"Most truly, sir."

"My darling," he exclaimed. "May God bless and reward you."

"My dear Edward," I said. "I have my reward."

He kissed me then and we stayed in each other's arms for a while, whispering our sweet plans for the future. All from the past would be forgotten and we promised a new life together.

Suddenly Edward let me go and said, "Jane, I believe it's time for tea. I would be a rude host to not offer what I invited you here for."

We laughed and sat down to tea.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 - Epilogue**

Reader, I married him. We had a quiet wedding, witnessed by just the parson and the clerk, staying as far away from the likely gossip and speculation of the neighborhood as we could. Once we were married, we contemplated what to do next. We hoped to one day rebuild Thornfield and reside there, but I still felt uncomfortable knowing that the neighborhood would look upon me with suspicion. There were too many rumors surrounding the disappearing governess of Thornfield Hall. Mr. Rochester cared little for this, but he was quite concerned for my feelings. We also felt that Ferndean was not suitable for us as it was not well equipped for full-time occupation.

We decided to return to Falaisesmer. For me there were some painful associations with the place, but also many happy memories. We were content to stay there for a few years until the folks of Hay and the surrounding area could forget about us. Together we would enjoy the beauty of our surroundings and the joy of each other's company while we built a new life together.

I wrote to Moor House and explained what had happened and what I had done. St. John was polite and said little of my marriage, but did wish me happiness and good prospects for the future. Diana approved the marriage unreservedly. As she was the one I had unburdened by heart to, she was most sympathetic to all that happened and shared mostly deeply in my newfound joy. Mary, who had more of her brother's reserve, seemed pleased, but also was a bit more hesitant with her approval. Diana and her gallant husband Captain Fitzjames went so far as to come visit us in France a few times. Mary married eventually as well and remained at Moor House where her husband took up the post vacated by St. John when he left for India.

St. John did go to India and was an exemplary missionary. I believe it was the suffering he saw there that helped him be more accepting and forgiving of his sinful cousin. Over the years his letters were less harsh and filled with his ponderings of the wonders of God's love. Sadly, fever would eventually take him from us. Surely he would claim the reward in Heaven he dreamed of.

I also sought out Adele as I wanted to know how she fared at school. She did not do well where she was. The school was a place of harsh discipline and stringent habits. She was pale and thin and very unhappy. I found a better school for her and allowed her to come stay with Edward and me during holidays. She was thrilled to be spending her summers in her native country. Edward, understanding now how painful it can be for a child to be cast aside, began treating her with more indulgence and kindness than before. She became a very pleasant companion for us.

We continued to learn we could move on from the painful associations of the past and move forward. Three years into our marriage we welcomed the arrival of a dark-eyed baby boy into our world. As he held his son in his arms for the first time and saw those brilliant eyes that were copies of his own, Edward acknowledged that God had tempered judgment with mercy.

I have now been married ten years. I know what it is like to feel the joy of living fully for and with the one you love most in the world. My Edward is indeed, in every way, bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh. Every day we are grateful for the life we have together, and are constantly looking toward more happiness in the future, and understanding that together we can heal the wounds of the past.

Now we are once more looking towards another new beginning as we return to England to watch them lay the foundation stones of a new Thornfield.


End file.
